


If Loving You Is A Sin

by very_important_army



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band), 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Although you can read it as non-au as well, Best Friends, M/M, Masturbation, Maybe it's porn with a little plot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 16:04:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18264713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/very_important_army/pseuds/very_important_army
Summary: Prompt by @loststickienote: Zhangjing sometimes masturbates while on Yanjun's bed, and one day his best friend walks in mid-orgasm.Zhangjing knows this is wrong. But really, can you blame him for having wet dreams about Yanjun?





	If Loving You Is A Sin

**Author's Note:**

> Woo, I actually kept my promise and managed to push this out before the end of the month! Conveniently, it's also Zhangjun's anniversary 😂
> 
> Grapefruit Juice Fic Fest Author Signups are OPEN until MARCH 31ST! Come join us~ 
> 
> The list of prompts is [here](https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1k0XgmpNdEJB9P3nxdPz7-BECy2cAPYGp9b-jpqGj3fg/edit?usp=sharing) and the author signup is [here!](https://forms.gle/Mb9Yazi4Q6ME3Tmp9)

_ Zhangjing groans. He looks down to see a head of familiar silver hair bobbing enthusiastically on his cock.  _

 

_ “I’m about to come,” Zhangjing gasps, threading his fingers through the man’s hair.  _

 

_ The man pulls off with a pop, and though Zhangjing can’t see the man’s face too clearly though his bangs, he can definitely see a smirk playing on the edges of his lips.  _

 

_ Zhangjing whines the man’s name, but before he can plead for him to continue sucking on his cock, the man fades away, and Zhangjing is left grasping at empty air.  _

 

Zhangjing opens his eyes. 

 

He’s lying in his own bed, alone, staring at the familiar pattern of cracks on his ceiling. He groans in annoyance as he realizes that his boxers are damp and much tighter than he’d like it to be. Angrily, he shoves a hand down his pants and wraps it around his erection. 

 

The precum already provides enough slick for Zhangjing to stroke himself comfortably, so he begins to pump himself rapidly. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tries to recall his dream. 

 

He knew the man’s name while dreaming, but now he can’t remember who it was...an oddly familiar smirk? Faintly, he can recall a dimple on his cheek, but he doesn’t remember being able to see the man’s face. And...silver hair?

 

Zhangjing knows only one person with silver hair. 

 

Oh, no. 

 

Did he really just have a wet dream about his best friend?

 

Zhangjing groans in despair, but he can’t help the hot flash of desire when he pictures Yanjun’s face, smirking and seductive. He’s seen Yanjun flirt all too many times, the image now embedded in his mind, and he finds that it’s really not difficult to imagine the younger man on his knees, lips swollen, looking at him through his lashes. Zhangjing whimpers, stroking himself faster.

 

Zhangjing closes his eyes. Pictures of Yanjun with Zhangjing’s cock in his mouth paint themselves across his closed eyelids, and Zhangjing imagines releasing all over the younger man’s handsome face. Yanjun would smirk at him, licking his lips clean of Zhangjing’s cum, before reaching up to kiss him, and Zhangjing can taste the bitterness on Yanjun’s tongue. Zhangjing gasps harshly as he actually cums in short, stuttered bursts. Unfortunately, Yanjun’s face is not there to catch his release, and he spills all over his hand and sheets. 

 

Zhangjing sighs, pulling the sheets off dutifully to throw them into the laundry machine. 

 

How can he face Yanjun now?

 

\--

 

It becomes a routine. His best friend’s face appears in his dreams, but Zhangjing wakes up with a raging boner before he can finish, so he has to finish into his own hand, unsatisfied. 

 

He can’t do this anymore. 

 

Even worse, he can’t even look at Yanjun without remembering — or rather, imagining — how his beautiful face would look with Zhangjing’s cock in his mouth, his plump lips covered in Zhangjing’s cum. He can’t help the stir of desire in his groin, and so he sprints away, squeaking out a flimsy excuse. 

 

He knows Yanjun knows that something’s up, knows that Yanjun is slightly hurt, but Zhangjing really can’t face his best friend.

 

If Zhangjing pops a boner just talking to Yanjun, surely the younger boy would be freaked out, right? He’ll hate Zhangjing for being a fucking creep, for thinking about his best friend like that. 

 

But Zhangjing still needs Yanjun — his own hand isn’t enough anymore.

 

Zhangjing grunts in frustration as he palms his cock. The pressure’s not quite right, he can’t really get into the mindset — he doesn’t know what to do. But he’s still hard as a rock. 

 

And his entire body yearns for Yanjun, a man he can’t have. 

 

Zhangjing rolls over, bending down to pick his jeans up to pull over his erection. Fuck it, he thinks, about to give up. This isn’t working anyway. 

 

But when his eyes fall on Yanjun’s bed on the other side of the room, Yanjun’s blanket thrown messily atop the bedsheets and his pillow nearly falling off the bed, Zhangjing gets an idea. 

 

An insane, tantalizing, disastrous idea. 

 

Zhangjing carefully slips into Yanjun’s bed, towel in hand to prevent any mess. The sheets are cool against his heated skin, and it smells like Yanjun’s detergent, fresh and clean and comforting. Zhangjing clutches the blanket and presses his nose against the soft comforter. He inhales deeply, taking in the familiar scent of strawberry shampoo and the fragrance that Yanjun is secretly obsessed with, Elizabeth Arden’s Green Tea scent spray. It’s a mixture of scents that really shouldn’t go together, but it does, because it’s  _ Yanjun. _ Zhangjing smiles softly. 

 

When Zhangjing reaches back down to grasp his cock, Yanjun’s unique scent fills his senses, as if he’s right there with Zhangjing. Zhangjing closes his eyes and lets his imagination do the rest of the work. 

 

_ A warm body curls itself around Zhangjing’s back, and the scent of strawberry fills his senses as Yanjun leans into whisper into his ear.  _

 

_ “Does this feel good, Zhangjing?” Yanjun reaches over Zhangjing’s waist to wrap his slender fingers around his cock, rubbing at his slit. Zhangjing arches his back into Yanjun’s touch, gasping as Yanjun pumps his cock slowly, tantalizingly.  _

 

_ “Ah, Yanjun,” Zhangjing whimpers, “please.”  _

 

_ Yanjun nibbles along Zhangjing’s neck, leaving little splotches of red in his wake. Zhangjing keens, throwing his head back.  _

 

_ Zhangjing grinds his hips against Yanjun’s touch, willing him to move his hand faster. The younger man complies, jerking his cock more quickly until Zhangjing groans lowly, balls tightening. Yanjun palms his balls tenderly, and Zhangjing squirms from the stimulation.  _

 

_ “Yanjun, please, just a little more,” Zhangjing begs, craving the extra push that will drive him over the edge.  _

 

_ Yanjun’s thumb presses against against his rim, kneading the muscle until he can slip one long finger into Zhangjing’s ass, and that penetration along with Yanjun’s continuous stroking of his cock is all he needs to tumble into bliss, mind blanking out from pleasure.  _

 

Zhangjing opens his eyes, hands covered in cum. He slowly sits up, wiping himself down with the towel. 

 

Thousands of emotions well up in Zhangjing’s chest as he robotically goes through the motions of cleaning up. 

 

_ Satisfaction.  _ Zhangjing doesn’t think he’s come so hard in a long time. 

 

_ Guilt.  _ Isn’t it wrong to think of his best friend like this?

 

_ Desire.  _ He really wants to do this again, craving the pleasure that comes with it. 

 

_ Fear.  _ What if Yanjun finds out? He’d definitely shun Zhangjing, hate him for being creepy and weird. 

 

_ Lust.  _ Or could it even be love?

 

Zhangjing bites his lip, trying not to cry. He wants Yanjun. He wants Yanjun as more than a friend, as more than a fuck-buddy. He wants all of Yanjun’s love and affection and the longing crashes into his chest, piercing and bitter. 

 

When Zhangjing lies down in his own bed to sleep that night, his dreams are plagued with Yanjun’s soft smile and deep dimples and a heavy, sinking feeling in his chest. 

 

\--

 

It becomes a habit. 

 

Zhangjing carefully observes when Yanjun goes out, knowing he’ll be gone for at least a couple hours, and tucks himself underneath Yanjun’s covers. Sometimes he doesn’t even masturbate — sometimes he just buries his nose into Yanjun’s pillow and dozes off. For reasons that Zhangjing tries not to think about, Yanjun’s bed brings him more comfort than his own.

 

Most of the time though, Zhangjing gives into his guilty pleasure. He wraps his small hand around himself, desperately trying to pretend that it’s someone else’s tanner, larger hand instead. The pleasure that courses through his veins is laced with a forbidden desire, and the guilt rises in Zhangjing’s throat every time he opens his eyes, hands dirtied with the evidence of his self-indulgence.

 

He scrubs at his hands furiously, using his favorite soap that smells like the tangy scent of grapefruit, but he can’t seem to wash away the scent of strawberries that seems to cling to his skin and his memory.

 

Nor can he seem to stop himself from crawling into Yanjun’s bed, tense with arousal, and then stumbling back out, limbs weak and sated and satisfied yet somehow still tense, now with guilt. The guilt swells and builds and rises like bile in his throat, until he thinks he’s going to suffocate from it.

 

_ This is the last time,  _ Zhangjing promises himself sternly as he slips underneath Yanjun’s covers once more. This time, Yanjun is going to a faraway park for a school project, for his photography minor, so Zhangjing can spend extra time for himself. Just one last time. 

 

_ Yanjun trails his lips down Zhangjing’s stomach and past his hips, tenderly placing an open mouthed kiss on the tip of his cock before pulling away. Zhangjing jerks uncontrollably as Yanjun begins to trace his rim, nearly kneeing the younger man in the face. Yanjun laughs throatily, pulling Zhangjing’s legs apart and diving in to press his nose against Zhangjing’s skin. Zhangjing trembles as Yanjun’s breath grazes over the most sensitive part of his body, light and cool, and tangles his fingers into Yanjun’s silver hair to drag him closer.  _

_ “Touch me, Yanjun,” Zhangjing pleads. And he gasps when Yanjun’s warm mouth closes over the head of his cock, sucking lightly before he pulls off with a pop.  _

 

_ “Do you want me to fuck you, Zhangjing?” _

 

_ A flash of desire pulses through Zhangjing. “I do,” he groans, craving to be filled. “Please, give me your cock.” _

 

_ Yanjun obeys, sinking into Zhangjing’s tight heat. Zhangjing squirms as he’s filled, every inch of Yanjun’s warmth pressing against his walls, the stretch painful in the best way. Yanjun begins to shift his hips, and all thought flies away as Zhangjing is overwhelmed by the onslaught of pleasure.  _

 

_ “Yanjun, please, I’m so close,” Zhangjing pants into Yanjun’s neck, skin glistening with sweat . “Just a little more.” _

 

_ Yanjun lifts his head, smirking at him, and opens his mouth. “Zhangjing, I forgot my wallet,” he says, sounding far away.  _

 

_ Zhangjing furrows his brows, but his mind is so muddled and hazy that he can’t seem to make sense of the words — all he can think is that he’s so so close, please Yanjun, just a little more — _

 

“Zhangjing?” Yanjun, the real Yanjun says, stunned. He’s standing in the doorway, real and breathing and alive, and Zhangjing, right on the precipice of orgasm, opens his eyes to see his best friend. 

 

_ “Zhangjing,” Yanjun gasps brokenly, before groaning and filling Zhangjing up with his warm seed, and Zhangjing can’t hold himself back either.  _

 

“Yanjun!” Zhangjing all but screams, arching his back off the bed and spilling all over his hand and belly. He slumps back onto Yanjun’s bed, sated, as he comes down from the most intense orgasm he’s had in awhile, even more powerful than when he’s just fantasizing about Yanjun by itself. 

 

Until he realizes what has just happened. 

 

“Oh, my god.” When the pleasurable haze fades from Zhangjing’s mind, the reality of what just happened sinks in. 

 

Yanjun is still standing frozen in the doorway, half in and half out, body turned away as if to flee. His eyes are searching Zhangjing’s, questioning if he really just heard his own name out of his best friend’s mouth as said best friend came all over his bed. 

 

“Oh my god,” Zhangjing repeats. Hot tears of embarrassment burn in his eyes, and he curls up in a weak attempt to hide his naked body, even though Yanjun’s already seen all that there is to see. 

 

“Zhangjing,” Yanjun says unsurely, taking a stuttered step into the room. He looks like a terrified animal, and Zhangjing’s heart cracks. 

 

“It’s okay,” he says, voice breaking, “I’ll wash your bedsheets and everything.” Zhangjing latches onto Yanjun’s pillow, pulling it over his face to hide the tears that threaten to fall.  It smells even more strongly like Yanjun, like his favorite strawberry scented shampoo that clings to anything and everything because of how many times he showers in a span of 24 hours, and now that that the lust has faded from Zhangjing’s mind, all that it reminds him of is how he would lie his head on Yanjun’s shoulder, on his back, tucked under his arm. Mournfully, he bids all of those little moments farewell  — Yanjun’s never going to touch him again after this, is he?

 

“Zhangjing,” Yanjun whispers again. He’s still here, and it seems that Zhangjing’s name is all that he can say. 

 

“Please,” Zhangjing pleads into the pillow. “Just, get out.” 

 

Yanjun hesitates. “We’ll talk about this later,” he demands, before the door finally shuts, and Zhangjing is alone again.

 

Zhangjing pulls the pillow away from his face, and allows the sobs to break free. 

 

\--

 

The next couple of days are hell. Zhangjing is terrified to see Yanjun, afraid to see the disgust in his eyes. He drags his things to Ziyi’s dorm, who welcomes him with open arms but confused eyes. Zhangjing is thankful for the younger boy’s restraint, knowing that he’s been dying to ask but wanting to respect his boundaries.

 

“If you ever want to talk, I’ll be here for you, bro,” is all he says, gentle and tender, as he brings Zhangjing food because he’s been skipping dinner, unwilling to face the weight of Yanjun’s stare for an entire meal. 

 

“Thanks, Ziyi,” Zhangjing whispers, and it’s all he can say. The younger boy just smiles kindly at him before turning to leave the room. 

 

He doesn’t get very far before someone stops him. 

 

“I need to see Zhangjing,” Yanjun’s voice says. Zhangjing can’t see him, and can only imagine what kind of expression he might be making. He panics and dives underneath the blanket, only peeking his eyes out to see Ziyi turn back to look at him questioningly. Zhangjing shakes his head frantically. 

 

“Sorry, bro,” Ziyi says apologetically. He’s a good friend, one that Zhangjing is lucky to have. “Maybe later?”

 

A loud thud against the wall makes Zhangjing jump. 

 

“Let me see Zhangjing,” Yanjun pleads again, sounding angry and desperate and maybe even sad. 

 

_ Why would he be sad? _ Zhangjing wonders, but he’s too afraid to find out. Maybe he’s just upset that someone he thought he could trust was actually a pervert and he hates that he ever befriended Zhangjing at all.

 

“Please,” Yanjun’s voice breaks. He’s begging with Ziyi now, who stands firm like the most reliable brick wall. Zhangjing wants to run into Yanjun’s arms and hang onto his arm and maybe kiss him silly, but he just wraps himself in blankets and closes his eyes, trying to escape this nightmare. 

 

\--

 

Zhangjing’s never been more grateful for Yanjun’s photography minor, which requires him to travel outside the city for his projects. When he hears that Yanjun will be out for a couple hours, he takes the opportunity to go back to his own dorm — the room that he shares with Yanjun. 

 

“I’ll get out of your hair for a couple hours,” Zhangjing tells Ziyi. 

 

The younger boy just smiles fondly. “You’re always welcome here,” he promises, but Zhangjing waves him off.

 

“You need some alone time too!” he says cheerfully, dropping his bag by the foot of his bed and flopping into his bed.  _ Home sweet home. _

 

When Zhangjing turns his head, he can see Yanjun’s covers — it’s like he’s never been gone. He closes his eyes, and unsurprisingly, Yanjun’s face comes to mind. Hating himself for it but unable to resist the pull of lustful desire, Zhangjing closes and eyes and lets his hand wrap around his cock, rubbing slightly to get the blood flowing to his nether regions. 

 

That’s it, though. 

 

That’s all he can do.  

 

With a groan, Zhangjing gives up, curling up unhappily. His cock is still hard, but his arm is getting sore and he can’t seem to do anything about. Resolving to just try to sleep, Zhangjing closes his eyes and thinks of Yanjun. 

 

Just as he dozes off, Yanjun appears and walks through the door. Zhangjing perks up. Maybe a wet dream will help him get off. He silently pleads for Yanjun to walk over. 

 

As if he’s heard Zhangjing’s silent prayers, Yanjun bends down beside Zhangjing’s bed. 

 

“Ah, looks like I was too late,” Yanjun murmurs, sounding disappointed. 

 

Zhangjing is confused. Why is Yanjun sad? What was he too late for? Why won’t he just fuck him like he usually does when he appears in Zhangjing’s dreams?

 

Yanjun leans in to kiss his forehead gently, and Zhangjing swoons. The younger man’s gaze falls onto his naked body, and Zhangjing would feel embarrassed, but Yanjun is looking at him so lovingly, so adoringly that Zhangjing just wants more. He wants to wrap his arms around the younger man’s neck, pull him close, and kiss him hard. He wants to strip him and ride him and make him come. He wants Yanjun’s hands all over his body. 

 

But Yanjun doesn’t do any of that. He pulls Zhangjing’s blanket over him and tucks him in.  _ Why won’t you fuck me?  _ Zhangjing wants to wail. But then Yanjun kisses him on the cheek and strokes his hair, and Zhangjing accepts that maybe this won’t be a wet dream. This will be a sweet dream, with Yanjun as his boyfriend. 

 

That’s acceptable, too. 

 

\--

 

Ziyi doesn’t necessarily force Zhangjing to move back into his own room, but Zhangjing can see it in his eyes. 

 

_ Bro,  _ Zhangjing can imagine him saying,  _ shouldn’t you try to make up with Yanjun? _

 

So Zhangjing drags himself back into his room, flushing red and avoiding Yanjun’s eyes when the other boy looks up when he drags his bags in, eyes lighting up.

 

“Uh, I gotta go... do something, I’ll see you later!” Zhangjing squeaks, running out the door. He does  _ not _ have the mental strength for a confrontation right now. 

 

“Wait, Zhangjing!” He hears Yanjun call after him, but he just runs faster, afraid of the future. 

 

Zhangjing is a  _ pro _ at avoiding his responsibilities. 

 

He slips back into his room when he knows Yanjun is taking one of his long-ass showers, and pretends to be asleep when Yanjun comes back in, skin flushed and hair dripping. He pretends not to hear Yanjun’s sigh or feel the younger man’s burning gaze. 

 

When he feels Yanjun turn away, Zhangjing peeks at him through his lashes. 

 

_ He’s so beautiful.  _ Zhangjing admires the smooth expanse of skin, stray droplets trickling down Yanjun’s back. He can just faintly see Yanjun’s muscles move under his skin as he adjusts the towel around his waist, and oh, fuck— 

 

Yanjun drops his towel. 

 

Zhangjing gulps, feeling severely guilty, and squeezes his eyes shut, the image of the soft globes burning in his mind. Zhangjing allows himself to sneak one more peek.

 

Throat suddenly parched, Zhangjing swallows painfully. Yanjun has pivoted around slightly, so instead of seeing just his ass, Zhangjing can see the faintest outline of his cock. He can feel himself flushing as blood rushes to his neck, and, to his horror, his own groin. Zhangjing hates himself for willing Yanjun to turn around even more, so he can get an even better glimpse of his best friend’s cock —but he squeezes his eyes shut forcefully. 

 

_ Stop looking at your best friend’s dick without his consent,  _ Zhangjing scolds himself.  _ Stop fantasizing about him. Stop.  _

 

Zhangjing only cracks open one eye after he hears the shuffling of fabric as Yanjun clothes himself, when he’s sure that Yanjun is decent. When his vision swims back into focus, all he sees is Yanjun’s now clothed back as he leaves the room, the door swinging shut behind him. 

 

Now alone, Zhangjing groans, kicking the blankets off to shove a hand angrily down his pants. His cock is half hard just from seeing Yanjun’s bare skin, and Zhangjing is antsy, the arousal thrumming lightly throughout his veins.  

 

Zhangjing reaches for his nearly empty bottle of lube, stashed away in the corner of his drawer. He strokes his shaft with slick fingers, but the pleasure the runs through him is shallow and unsatisfying. Zhangjing kind of wants to cry — he hasn’t been able to get off since Yanjun walked in on him, but his desire for his best friend hasn’t lessened. If anything, it seems to have swelled, the lust blooming and flowering into love, and what was once just a want for Yanjun’s cock has become a need for Yanjun’s smiles, his dimples, even his cold jokes.

 

Zhangjing whimpers pitifully, hand still stroking his cock as he yearns for release. For Yanjun.

 

And as if he were summoned, Yanjun bursts through the door. 

 

Zhangjing is slow to react, and all he can do is moan Yanjun’s name brokenly as his grip tightens. He squeezes his eyes shut, not wanting to see the hate on Yanjun’s face. 

 

“Do you need some help?”

 

Zhangjing opens his eyes, and give a small gasp of shock. Yanjun’s face is right in front of him, signature smirk painted on his lips. 

 

Zhangjing’s brain isn’t working properly. “H-help?” He stutters in confusion. 

 

“Yes, Zhangjing,” Yanjun says, slowly sinking to his knees in front of Zhangjing’s cock. “Do you need some  _ help _ ?” He lets his fingertips come down to rest on Zhangjing’s knees, tracing small intricate patterns into his skin. 

 

Zhangjing nods furiously. “Please,” he whimpers, cock twitching and craving Yanjun’s touch. 

 

Yanjun leans in and gingerly wraps his lips around Zhangjing’s tip. Zhangjing moans loudly, wantonly, trying not to thrust into Yanjun’s throat. Yanjun methodically bobs his head on Zhangjing’s cock, careful and unsure but eager nevertheless. Zhangjing twists his fingers into Yanjun’s hair, encouraging him silently. 

 

“Feels good, Yanjun,” Zhangjing gasps out, eyes falling closed from pleasure. Yanjun hums around him, and Zhangjing cries out, hips jerking forward involuntarily to shove his cock deeper down Yanjun’s throat.

 

To his credit, Yanjun takes it like a champ, only betrayed by his watering eyes. “Sorry, sorry,” Zhangjing pants, forcing his eyes open to rub his thumbs tenderly over the younger boy’s eyelids and wipe the tears away. Yanjun blinks his round eyes up at Zhangjing, a familiar smug glint in his eyes, and deepthroats Zhangjing’s cock once more. Zhangjing keens loudly, thighs trembling around Yanjun’s head. When Yanjun runs out of air, he pulls off Zhangjing’s cock with a pop. 

 

Zhangjing is senseless with pleasure, cock red and leaking and aching for Yanjun. “Yanjun, Yanjun, fuck me,” he cries, tugging at Yanjun’s shirt. Yanjun quickly sheds his clothes, groaning when he frees his erection. Mindlessly, Zhangjing crawls towards where Yanjun is standing and reaches for his cock, wanting the heavy weight of it in his mouth. 

 

Zhangjing swallows Yanjun’s cock enthusiastically, sucking his cheeks in. He loves the way Yanjun feels against his tongue, and the light grunts that Yanjun releases every time Zhangjing takes him down his throat is just the cherry on top. 

 

“Zhangjing, where’s your lube?” Yanjun grits out, head thrown back in pleasure. Zhangjing reaches blindly for the little bottle, unwilling to take Yanjun’s cock out of his mouth. His fingers close around the little bottle, and he hands it to Yanjun, who uncaps it and attempts to squeeze the gel out. The bottle splutters as the last of the lube is emptied out onto Yanjun’s long fingers, and he chuckles in amusement. “You’ve been busy, haven’t you, Zhangjing?”

 

Zhangjing pulls himself off Yanjun’s cock to grumble impatiently at him, falling backwards onto the bed and hooking himself onto Yanjun’s bicep to drag him down along with him. Yanjun laughs, before kissing Zhangjing firmly on the lips. Despite everything, Zhangjing can’t help but blush.

 

Yanjun’s lips are soft and warm and feel a lot like home, and Zhangjing smiles into the kiss, pressing himself even closer. Yanjun smiles with him, and his tongue comes out to trace Zhangjing’s lips, so Zhangjing welcomes him, allowing his best friend to explore parts of him that he’s never before. 

 

A slick finger presses against Zhangjing’s hole, rubbing small circles against him before sliding in. Zhangjing pants into the kiss, spreading his legs to let Yanjun in. Yanjun carefully fits a second finger in, scissoring them against Zhangjing’s walls, and Zhangjing moans at the stretch. 

 

The fingers stop moving, and Yanjun breaks apart, looking worried. “Are you in pain?”

 

Zhangjing growls at him. “No, but your lips are not on mine and your fingers are not moving,” he proclaims, before leaning in to kiss Yanjun again. The younger boy breathes a laugh into Zhangjing’s lips before kissing insistently back, and the fingers inside Zhangjing resume stretching and stroking against his walls. 

 

When Zhangjing begins to contract impatiently around Yanjun’s fingers, Yanjun pulls back to nudge his cock against Zhangjing’s stretched entrance. “Ready?”

 

Zhangjing laces his fingers with Yanjun’s. “I’ve been ready.” Yanjun smiles at him, dimples popping out, and begins to slowly push the blunt tip past Zhangjing’s rim. Zhangjing whimpers as Yanjun’s cock stretches him even more than his fingers had, the burn pleasant and thrilling.

 

Yanjun brings himself down to lie on top of Zhangjing, face to face, before carefully pistoning his hips against Zhangjing’s. 

 

Tender is the only way to describe it. It’s the only way to describe Yanjun’s gentle movements, his soft caresses, the look in his eyes as he smiles at Zhangjing. 

 

Zhangjing likes this. He likes being in Yanjun’s arms, likes being underneath him. He feels safe and warm and so, so loved, but that’s what makes it so confusing in the first place. 

 

Yanjun is fucking into him lovingly, smoothly, trying to give him as much pleasure as he can. And the younger man is staring down at him with hooded eyes, a gentle smile playing on his lips. Zhangjing can’t help but hope. 

 

Zhangjing’s always been able to understand Yanjun with just one look. But what if this time is the first time he’s wrong? What if Yanjun’s just in this for the sex?

 

Yanjun sucks hard on Zhangjing’s neck, and all coherent thought flies out the window. 

 

Later, Zhangjing decides. He’ll allow himself to indulge...just this once. 

 

Yanjun groans into Zhangjing’s neck, starting to speed up. His breathing picks up as well, and Zhangjing knows that Yanjun is losing control. 

 

“Fuck me, Yanjun,” he pleads. “Give me more.”

 

And Yanjun thrusts harder into him, sweat dripping down the side of his face and making his skin glisten in the low light, and Zhangjing thinks he’s never seen anything more beautiful. Blissfully, Zhangjing chants Yanjun’s name, and is rewarded with Yanjun’s whispers of his own name into his ear. 

 

“Zhangjing, you feel so good,” Yanjun gasps when Zhangjing wraps his legs around the younger boy’s thin waist. “Even better than in my dreams.”

 

Zhangjing can’t respond — the only sounds falling from his lips are nonstop moans of Yanjun’s name as he fills him just right, as his cock slides against all of Zhangjing’s most sensitive spots.

 

Yanjun stares down at him, a smile in his eyes, and Zhangjing forces his heavy lids open so he can maintain contact with Yanjun. Vaguely, he wonders how he looks to the younger man — is the love that he holds for Yanjun obvious too? 

 

Maybe it is. Yanjun leans down to kiss him sweetly, whispering Zhangjing’s name against his lips like a prayer. Zhangjing breathes in the strawberry green tea fragrance, and the climax builds up. 

 

“Yanjun,” Zhangjing whimpers, “I’m so close.” 

 

Yanjun pauses to hoist Zhangjing’s hips up higher, closer, and Zhangjing nearly screams as his cock nudges against his prostate at the perfect angle. 

 

Giving one last burst of strength, Yanjun pistons into Zhangjing furiously. Zhangjing sobs as he climaxes hard, spurting over his stomach and Yanjun’s stomach and even onto the sheets as the pent up tension is released, and Yanjun’s chest rumbles with a groan as his own orgasm follows suit. 

 

“I love you, Zhangjing.”

 

Yanjun loves him too. A ball of warmth buds in his chest, unrelated to the mindblowing orgasm he’s just experienced, and it spreads to each centimeter of skin that Yanjun touches — which at this point, Zhangjing and Yanjun are so tangled up that their point of contact is everywhere. Zhangjing feels warm, like he’s glowing.

 

Through the haze in his mind, Zhangjing clenches his legs even more firmly around Yanjun’s waist, locking him inside his embrace, and Yanjun sinks willingly into Zhangjing’s arms. When the trembling of Yanjun’s body subsides, he collapses on top of Zhangjing. 

 

Zhangjing flushes when he sees the younger boy's adoring gaze. 

 

"You're not weirded out?" He squeaks, acutely aware of Yanjun’s cum leaking out of his ass. 

 

"By this? No," Yanjun replies, eyes shining. He pecks Zhangjing chastely on the nose, unable to stop grinning. "I love you." 

 

Zhangjing turns bright red, and he hides his face in the crook of Yanjun's neck. "You're not just saying that?"

 

Yanjun laughs and wraps himself tightly around Zhangjing. Despite himself, Zhangjing breathes in Yanjun's unique strawberry-green tea fragrance. "You know, if you had let me talk back then, I would've told you that I masturbate to you, too. I've liked you for so long," the younger boy admits. 

 

“Don’t say things like that so casually,” Zhangjing snaps, trying to will the blush in his cheeks to die down. 

 

Yanjun just tips his head back and laughs gleefully, shining beautifully. “What? That I have wet dreams about you too?”

 

Zhangjing can only mumble something incomprehensible in reply, still in shock. Yanjun hugs him tighter, and Zhangjing lets himself be wrapped up in Yanjun’s embrace. 

 

Yanjun kisses him gently on the lips. "I like you a lot, Zhangjing. Be my boyfriend?"

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on twitter [here](https://twitter.com/viarmy0111) and send me questions (please send me questions, I'm lonely) [here!](https://curiouscat.me/viarmy0111)


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